Chaos on Camera

by Louise Lynn

  She had a point.

  And, I couldn’t deny it sort of made sense with Gina’s past bad behavior. Though, that was all tied up to high school related stuff, and I hadn’t heard any rumors about her lately. Not really.

  Though I did know a few people who purposefully never went to her to get their hair done for fear that if they didn’t like it, she might retaliate the next time.

  Ivy, Mom, and I didn’t go to that salon either. And I couldn’t deny that the rumors had made me worried for my own locks. No matter that I didn’t do much with them in the first place besides the braids.

  As we wandered onto set, it looked akin to a ghost town instead of a bustling Hollywood-esque backdrop. Most of the remaining crew glanced over their shoulders as if a bogeyman might jump out and attack them next.

  I knew from Dean that no one was supposed to leave town until they solved the case, which put everyone in an awkward position.

  However, it also seemed like Sandra was trying to salvage the picture using whatever sort of producer skills she had. I honestly still didn’t understand what her job was besides managing money and the investors behind the scenes. And if what Michael said was true about them wanting Clark Duncan for the picture, I wasn’t sure how she was going to salvage anything.

  Or why anyone would want to work on a movie with two deaths in the matter of a few days.

  Security didn’t stop us, and it might’ve had something to do with our catering pass badges pinned to our coats. We strolled past Unit Base and started our walk toward the makeup department. Hopefully, Sanjay was there and hadn’t abandoned set like everyone else seemed to have done.

  "So, what should we do when he says she was lying?" Ivy said and rubbed her hands together.

  I frowned. "I don’t know. We’ll think of something when we get there. Probably call Dean again."

  Ivy grinned and nudged me in the arm. "Any little excuse, huh? Why don’t you just ask him out? He’s almost divorced."

  I shook my head. I couldn’t explain why I needed those papers to be signed before I could agree to go out with him. It wasn’t like I believed he would reconcile with his soon-to-be ex, but if we were going to have a fresh start, I wanted it to be that—actually fresh and not burdened by his failed marriage and our former relationship. Ivy didn’t have anything that serious in her romantic past, so I didn’t really expect her to understand.

  "I get her wanting to kill Quintessence out of jealousy, but the whole Clark Duncan thing doesn’t make sense if Gina is a killer," I said and turned another corner on the set.

  Only a few of the crew members wandered there, and they ignored us completely.

  “Well, maybe two completely different people killed Quintessence and Clark. I mean, maybe he just invited the wrong girl into his trailer," Ivy said.

  I snorted. "Good point."

  But I didn’t remind her that Dean thought whoever had killed Quintessence also killed Clark. He said the stab wounds came from a similar height. I didn’t know anything about the trajectory of stab wounds, so I took his word for it.

  Sanjay’s door to his makeup trailer stood open as we approached.

  Ivy gave me a curious glance, and I shrugged and stepped inside.

  I couldn’t blame her hesitation. With how many people were popping up dead in trailers on this movie set, walking into one with an open door seemed inauspicious at best and terrifying at worst.

  I froze in my tracks and sucked in a breath.

  His trailer was a bigger mess than last time I’d seen it. The vanity had several makeup bottles tipped over. A bright pink blush spilled across the surface, and several of the lipsticks were uncovered. Not to mention the open bottles of body paint sitting around. That wasn’t like Sanjay.

  But that’s not what made me take a step back and bump directly into Ivy.

  He wasn’t in plain view, but I saw Sanjay’s perfectly manicured hand hanging off the edge of a high-backed chair, facing away from the door. The tips of his fingers were bright red in the dim light.

  "Oh no. Ivy go–" I started, then the fingers twitched.

  Moved.

  Ivy screamed. “Zombie! He came back as a zombie," she cried, and her fingers snagged at my coat, trying to pull me outside.

  I shrugged her off. "Sanjay?" I said and stepped forward, my heart hammering.

  He leapt up from the chair and shook his head. "Hello, Olivia and Ivy? What are you doing here?" he said with a smile that rang slightly falser than his last.

  I raised an eyebrow and glanced around his trailer. "We came to have a word about a friend of yours. What happened here?"

  Sanjay looked a little sheepish and glanced around the trailer. I noticed the dazzling red on his hand that I’d mistaken for blood was just nail polish, and I bit my bottom lip.

  At least I wasn’t the only one who thought something was amiss. And my reaction wasn’t anywhere near as over-the-top as Ivy’s.

  "It’s silly, really. I got into a bit of an argument with one of the other makeup artists. She’d been borrowing my sponges and things got heated," he said and rubbed his chin. “My equipment doesn’t come free, you know.”

  I exchanged glances with Ivy, who still gripped me as if she didn’t believe he wasn’t a member of the walking dead.

  "Heated? Were you guys throwing makeup around?"

  His golden skin flushed. "Throwing is such a strong word. And don’t believe her if she said I grabbed her weave. I didn’t. It got stuck on my nail," he said and looked at his gleaming red nails.

  "Okay. I believe you. That’s actually not why we’re here. Do you know a local named Gina Rodriguez?”

  Sanjay’s eyes brightened. “Gina! I love her. She was by just the other night, before this whole awful mess happened. Are you friends?"

  Ivy furrowed her brow. "How do you know Gina? I thought she’d lived in San Bas her whole life?"

  It was a good question. I thought so too, though we had lost touch after high school, and it wasn’t as if we were Facebook friends now.

  "I don’t know about that, but she took a few makeup classes from me down in L.A. before she started her own business up here. She worked on the set of a few minor TV shows. She’s quite good. Though there was that big issue with Q’s hair," he said and raised his eyebrows, which had glitter over them.

  "What issue?" I asked as Sanjay swept past us and collapsed on the couch at the front of the trailer.

  He laughed. "Well, she was supposed to be dying it for the part in the movie. Quinn wanted to go all in and be like those actresses that shave their heads for movies. Except you know she would never have shaved her head. But she wanted to pretend like she could have, so she was dying her hair pink for the role. Only, Gina used the wrong dye. Now, whether she did on accident or on purpose …” Sanjay shrugged and smiled. "You’ll have to ask her about that."

  I nodded and slowly sat in the chair across from him. "She’s the one who dyed Quintessence’s hair that night?"

  "As far as I know. And Q was furious. First, she cried about her scalp burning, then, when she saw it was the wrong color, things got unpleasant."

  But unpleasant enough for Gina to stab her in the heart later? I could tell from the look Ivy gave me that she was thinking the same thing.

  “What happened later? After the whole wrong hair dye incident?" I asked and bunched my hands in my dress.

  Sanjay smacked his lips as he thought. "Well, everyone in the makeup trailer area heard the outburst and ran to see what was going on. We had to separate Gina and Quintessence because if we didn’t, things would have gotten nastier. After that, Q went back to her trailer with a few other makeup artists, and Gina stayed here," he said and shrugged.

  "How long did Gina stay?" I said and leaned forward.

  If what Sanjay was saying was true, Gina and Adam had lied to the police about her presence on set. She was supposed to have left much earlier and not been hanging around near Quinn’s time of death.

  My heart hammered as I
thought of it. She could be the one we were looking for.

  "Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention to the time. There was that whole party for the first day of shooting, but we didn’t go. We decided to sit in here and give ourselves mani-pedis," he said with a sad smile. "I know. It’s cliché. A makeup artist who likes to give himself mani-pedis. But you need to be able to treat yourself occasionally. And Gina’s cuticles looked awful. She needed it."

  I smiled, and noticed Ivy giving her own cuticles the once over. I was happy I’d kept my gloves on. "So, you don’t know how long she stayed here?"

  Sanjay shook his head. “She was probably here until one a.m. Why? Is she in trouble? Do you think she—” He gasped and put his hand over his mouth. "No. She would not have hurt Quintessence. Well, maybe she would hurt her. She might have shaved her head in her sleep. Or put the wrong kind of dye in so her hair would fall out. But stabbed her? Not Gina," he said and gave us an imploring smile.

  I nodded and stood. "Thank you. We don’t think Gina did it either, but we wanted to see if she’d actually been on set that day," I said and headed toward the door.

  “You ladies should be careful. Whoever did this is, pardon my language, but insane in the membrane."

  I held back a snicker and nodded. "Of course. I agree."

  We shut the door after we left, and Ivy raised an eyebrow. "Remind me never to go to Gina’s salon. Shave her head. Make her hair fall out."

  I shrugged. "Yeah, but it’s not murder."

  "Close enough," Ivy said and twirled a lock of her dark hair around her finger.

  Chapter Fifteen

  To get back to the parking lot, we had to pass through the cast’s trailers. My heart lodged in my throat as we wandered by.

  The entire area was devoid of any crew members, and I’d heard that the remaining cast had gone to stay at inns and hotels in San Bas instead of staying on set because of the two murders.

  I couldn’t blame them.

  Even worse, this entire trip had been fruitless. We couldn’t either clear Gina’s name or confirm that she did it. Though if she’d stayed with Sanjay until one a.m. that meant she may have had time to sneak into Quinn’s trailer and stab her to death afterward.

  But that wasn’t proof.

  And it meant implicating Adams fiancé as well clearing his name—not really what I think he wanted.

  Movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Ivy halted next to me and snapped her head in that direction.

  It was a slight creak, and it came from Quintessence’s trailer.

  Crime scene tape was draped across the door, but I noticed on one edge that it fluttered free as if it had come loose. Or, someone had taken it off.

  "I think someone’s in there," I whispered and pointed.

  Ivy nodded and glanced around. "There are no weapons. What do we do, boss? I don’t want to die before my big date tomorrow.”

  Right. My baby sister’s date with Wyatt Edwards.

  I sighed. The only things I saw lying around the blacktop were one of those little flags that they put in the ground to mark someone’s spot to stand while shooting, and that wasn’t much of a weapon.

  "We hide, and we see who it is."

  Ivy nodded. "Then we jump ‘em," she said and balled her hands into fists.

  “We’re not going to have a rumble. But we might have to question them. Unless it’s Dean or Woods," I said, and heat rose to my cheeks.

  It would make sense for one of the detectives or another member of the police to be in there. But if it was someone else—my heart throbbed in my throat.

  If it was Gina or Adam, I knew what we had to do. Turn them into the police.

  Another sound of rustling came from the trailer, and I held my breath as the door creaked open. Slowly, a short figure emerged. He peered around, his eyes shifting and ratlike, then he shut the door behind him. He grasped something pink and satiny in his hands, and I swear I felt the heat rise to Ivy’s cheeks as well as my own.

  "It’s that creep Clark Duncan was talking to the night Quintessence was killed," I said.

  Ivy nodded. “Follow my lead,” she said, and before I could stop her, she jumped up from her hiding place beside me and approached him. “What do you think you’re doing, creep?" she cried.

  The guy froze in place and glanced around. When he spotted her, he relaxed slightly, but put his hands behind his back.

  I frowned, but jumped up next.

  Ivy stood a good head taller than him, and even I had an inch or two on the small sound-man. What was his name? Jacob or something.

  "We caught you red-handed going through Quintessence’s trailer. What were you doing in there? Messing with evidence? Trying to cover your tracks?" I said and we both pounced toward him like a pair of cats going after a mouse frozen in fear.

  His head turned back and forth between us.

  I forced my face into a stony mask. I didn’t want to give away that my heart was throbbing against my ribs.

  "I wasn’t doing nothing. I heard a sound and went to check it out. Yeah, that’s what happened,” he squeaked.

  Ivy’s face twisted into a grimace. “Yeah, right. You were spying on Quintessence the day she was killed. Her husband put you up to it,” she said and towered above him, looking down her nose into his beady eyes.

  He shook his head and took a tentative step backward. "No. That’s not how it happened. Who are you guys?"

  "It doesn’t matter who we are. But we know the truth," I said and tried to put as much force into it as possible—the way Michael told me to. However, I heard my voice falter at the end, and Ivy let out an exasperated sigh.

  She leaned over to me and grabbed my shoulder. “I’m the bad cop. You be the good cop. Because you really suck at the bad cop."

  I frowned and crossed my arms. "What’s behind your back, Jacob?”

  “Nothing!" he said and a line of sweat trickled down his brow. It mixed with the grease already on his forehead.

  "Oh? Nothing, huh? Why are you hiding nothing? Tell us the truth. Clark Duncan hired you to kill his wife, then he threatened to turn you into the cops, so you murdered him too!” Ivy snarled.

  The guy shook his head madly and looked at me. "She’s crazy. Are you guys cops or what? And no, that’s not how it happened. Clark would hire me to look after her to make sure she wasn’t drinking. To watch her and see if she was going to break her contract for the film. That’s it. I swear! I wouldn’t kill Quintessence. I—"

  I stepped as close to him as I wanted to, and smelled the oily cologne that he seemed to slather himself with. I wish I didn’t. "And why is that?”

  "I loved her. I loved Quintessence Lovejoy. Now she’s gone and …” he said and started blubbering.

  Ivy raised her brows at me, and I shrugged.

  Of all the things I was expecting, that wasn’t it.

  “If you loved her, why are you messing up her crime scene? And what did you just steal from her trailer?" I asked and placed my hands on my hips.

  He sucked in several hitched breaths, and his bottom lip trembled. "I never would’ve killed her. I was gonna propose one of these days. You know, after she divorced that jerk. I was just waiting for my chance, and now she’s dead and it’s all I have left," he cried and pulled the hand he’d been hiding back to his front.

  Grasped in his fingers was an unmistakable sight. A pair of satiny pink panties.

  I scratched my nose, and Ivy took a step back. "Gross. You stole her underwear. That’s a crime, right?"

  “Burglary is a crime, and that’s what it looked like you were doing. So is interfering in a crime scene," I said. I honestly wasn’t sure about the second one, but it sounded good.

  "Let’s call the boss so he can get down here to take this guy in,” Ivy said and came close to poking him in the chest but stopped short.

  I wouldn’t want to have touched him either.

  Then Ivy pulled out her phone and texted Dean. His response
came a minute later.

  “Says he’s on his way with the squad car," she said and jutted out her chin.

  Jacob shook his head. "Who are you guys?"

  I smiled. “We’re the Darrow sisters."

  Ivy grinned and held up her hand for a high-five.

  With a sigh, I obliged.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "You need a break, and I’m taking you out for dessert. No arguments," Mom said, only fifteen minutes after Ivy had departed for her date with Wyatt.

  I looked around at the mess that was my kitchen and frowned. "You’re right. I keep dreaming about cupcakes and scones and the best tea to pair with them, and I think I’m going insane," I admitted and leaned against the wall.

  Mom gave me an exaggerated frown. “Well, dust that flour off and let’s get going. There’s a new place called The Chocolate Lounge just out of town. It’s right on the sea and we’re going to get a nice view and enjoy fondue. How does that sound, my little Olive?" she said and pinched my cheek.

  "Perfect, but I’m not five, so you don’t have to pinch my face," I said and slipped the apron over my head.

  "Five or thirty-three, you will always be my little baby Olive," she said and jingled her way out of the room and down the grand Victorian staircase.

  I followed her, though I did hesitate as she headed toward her ancient station wagon. "I’ll drive, Mom. I don’t want to get stranded on the highway."

  How she still drove her car was beyond me. It looked as though it would barely make it along the street before bursting a wheel.

  With a shrug, she agreed and climbed into my truck.

  My mom wasn’t kidding about The Chocolate Lounge being on the ocean. It was about ten miles from the edge of San Bastion, and situated on a beautiful cliff face that overlooked the sea. The sign was written in a swoopy cursive – Le Chocolate – and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard of it until now.

  "How did you hear about this place?"

  Mom’s blue eyes twinkled. "Rita in my yoga class, dear. She told me how it just opened and that we must come and try it."